


Nail Polish

by Anonymous



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Dave | Technoblade and Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Emotional Hurt, Gen, How Do I Tag, Light Angst, Nail Polish, Rated T for overdramatic rants from wilbur, Sad Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot Needs a Hug, Wilbur Soot-centric, Wilbur is painfully obviously the middle child here, instead fo reaching out for help i project my feelins on a possessed 24 year old from britain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:35:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27539242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Wilbur has a bit of a thought spiral over what's happened since quarantine started.Quick Drabble, has lowkey angst :)[Unedited as of now, might fix later]
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 90
Collections: Anonymous





	Nail Polish

It wasn’t that often that Wilbur painted his nails, favoring to let the black polish chip and fade over time. His inability to simply take the remover and a cotton pad to his nails proved to be useful in the recent months. Days didn’t track straight, and some days he couldn’t tell what month it was, whether it was October 23rd or November 16th. To be entirely honest it was neither. He knew he had painted his nails maybe a week or two ago? The black polish chipped away towards the tips, so it had obviously been a while.  
He wasn’t quite lonely, not in the way that counted. Sure he had his brothers and his online friends but now that they’d all moved he lived much further from anyone he knew. Online classes did not yield themselves to making friends, especially not when no one had their cameras on and everyone busied themselves with the accelerated work courses. 

If not for the mindless drabble that he filled his days with, Wilbur would have been much more acquainted with his slowly ticking bomb of a brain. It was an interesting predicament, he'd always been a good kid to some degree: not failing classes but not a straight A student; not the standard getting into fights kid, but not unwilling to stand up for what he thought deserved it. He was much more of the middle child type, slinking into his room to be forgotten until Dinner. Tommy was the aggressive one, and Techno always played the older, more stoic and closed off but caring brother. Whether it was from fights or A+ essays, the other two always had something being directed at them; a spotlight of sorts.

Wilbur knew he was overreacting. He was just a little less "out there" than his brothers was all. He was supposed to focus on himself, his own accomplishments; his geography quiz that bore a shiny 100%, or the stacks of lyrics and chords that sat on his desk. They were things he threw himself into, but yet recently he found himself laying in bed, unable to do much more than simply think to get up and grab his guitar. He let it all slip through his hands. His hands that bore chipped nails, the ones that wished to hold his guitar, the ones with the irritated skin from where he scrubbed away his small doodles. 

He was suffocating on the empty space, everything felt like too much and nothing felt like enough. It was hard. Everything was so very hard, even removing nail polish.

**Author's Note:**

> First piece like this! Hope you liked it :) Leave me comments please, they fuel the gremlins in my brain.
> 
> (Funny thing I wrote this before Nov.16 was gonna be significant! Pretty cool)
> 
> Thanks for reading and make sure to drink water!


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